


Time is All There is Left

by MMonster



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMonster/pseuds/MMonster
Summary: Margaret Carter is dead. She lived a long, full life, did remarkable things. Saved the world - and the universe - more times than she herself can count. Now, she is finally done with it all. Death is both accepted and welcomed by her.Except, the universe might not be ready to let her go just yet.





	1. Chapter 1

The Kamar-Taj's library is a traditional Tibetan building, made of wood and decorated with religious, mythical ornery. Its walls are darkened by age, the space dimly lit by flicking flames disposed around the room. Shelves guard books as old as the building, full of wonderful and lethal powers. Against foreigners, it is an almost impenetrable place, under the protection of the Ancient One. For those from the inside, however, its guard is kept by a single librarian. The librarian, Wong, a mage of great power but prone to distraction, is too busy looking for a missing book, smuggled out instead of loaned properly, to notice the sudden apparition of a cloaked woman in the middle of the room, thus, helping to prove the status of the building as _almost_ impenetrable.

Wearing a white, silky, hooded mantle that covers all of her body except hands and face, it will be impossible for Wong to determinate the aspect of the woman even if does look up for his search, which led him to an inspection of the underside of the shelves. There isn't much opportunity to do so either, since the woman is gone as quickly as she appeared.

In the center of the room, on a large, stone plinth, had rested before a golden amulet in the shape of an eye, said to have belonged to the first Sorcerer Supreme, the Eye of Agamotto. It is neither remarkable nor powerful, if not for the stone contained inside it. After the woman left the library, there was only an empty space in the place previously occupied by the amulet.

Hundreds of kilometers away, the same hooded woman appears, her glittering mantle breaking the cloak of darkness that envelops the Brompton Cemetery in London. It rains strongly, but a few lampposts in the distance offer a meager enough light to distinguish the graves, which seem as different from each other as they can be, going from imperious tombs with Gothic sculptures to simple, arched marble headstones, some as old as the cemetery itself, worn by the vegetation, the weather and time, others freshly built, new and clean. One of the most recent graves is a white marble tomb, which contains an assortment of flowers, crowns, candles and other memorabilia covering it.

The invader easily sees it, even in the dark, and calmly walks towards it. The only audible sounds are the rain that pelts the green grass and agitates the trees. The words carved on the tomb's headstone are indistinguishable in the present conditions, but would otherwise have read:

_Beloved mother, wife and friend._

_Margaret “Peggy” Elizabeth Carter._

_April 9, 1921 – June 19, 2016._

There is a picture in black-and-white of an attractive, square-jawed young woman lying under the inscription, positioned there by someone who had paid their respects. The hooded stranger stops for a moment, studying the image. The weak light of the lampposts reveals the stolen amulet, resting over her chest. She remains unnervingly still for a few moments.

Suddenly, the earth beneath the tomb starts to shake, disturbing the organized chaos of the disposed flowers and objects. The stone cracks ominously, before being propelled away with enough force that it destroys the grave it collides with, a few meters away. The dark earth revealed under the desecrated tomb moves, the newly assented dirt rising from the ground, taking all in its way with it, falling aside. The strands it forms as it rises, in the lack of light, seem profane and perverted, like the earth itself is being eviscerated. It isn't long until it's still again, and something else is elevated from the soil.

A casket, covered by a soiled blue, red and white Union flag and previously-white roses. The woman watches as it is deposited lightly on the right side of the open grave, away from the recently moved dirt. Finally, she moves, walking towards the desecrated casket and opening it with her own, pale hands.

Inside, still perfectly preserved and coiffed is the body of a very old, elegant looking female. Her gray hair is styled in soft, silvery curls, falling over her square but frail shoulders and her blue and white attire. The desecrator stays silent, her eyes scrutinizing the body as if the cold, dead lump of flesh holds answers to unvoiced questions. Then, she softly runs her almost translucent hand over the silky gray strands. Water pours from the sky still, dripping inside the casket and upsetting the state of perfect order and presentation the body is in.

The stranger stands suddenly, taking a step back. With careful motions, her slender fingers with dagger sharp nails form a four-sided symbol, resembling an eye itself. The stolen amulet, resting on a chain over her chest, glows when it opens, revealing a bright green stone inside. The woman, with fluid, almost choreographed motions, harnesses the power of the stone, directing it towards the perfectly still body lying in front of her. She starts to make careful, slow circular movements, almost like the motion one would use to turn back the hands of a clock.

It isn't long, then, for the previously lifeless and cold, now drenched body, to jerk upright, its painted lips opening to drawn in a breath. Long lashes flutter as the resuscitated woman opens her brown eyes. Vacant, they seem to follow the accelerating motions of the other without comprehending them.

As the cloaked figure accelerates her motions, the deep wrinkles on the face and the marks on the hands of the woman lying in the casket seem to soften and disappear one by one, her silvery hair darkening until it looks midnight black, drenched to its roots. Her body acquires a new softness as it goes from brittle to supple, a new hardness as it goes from the rigidity of death to the pliant rigor of youthfulness and health.

The changes happen from dead, to old to young and everything in between. The numerous wounds sustained by Peggy during her life reappear momentarily, only to disappear just a quickly. Barely there scars turn white, pink, red, bloody and nonexistent. Her body contorts itself in a different position as it gets too big for its confinement when its weight increases, her belly rounding and deflating three times. Tears, lost to the rain and the darkness, run down her brightening eyes. Marks, bruises, bumps, blemishes, speckles and all shades of tan she ever managed to get in her adult life, come and go dizzyingly fast.

Finally, after no more than a few seconds and an entire lifetime, the other stops moving. Peggy breathes heavily, her trembling arms trying to grasp the slippery edges of the casket to push herself up. Her dazed, watery eyes watch as the other woman silently scrutinizes her. From her point of view, Peggy can distinguish thin, attractive, perfectly drawn lips and a milky-white face with a pointed chin, and nothing more. It's an instant, and it disappears with its owner, proof left of its presence only a stunned, drenched woman in her mid-twenties and a soft, glimmering fog that dilutes away in the rain almost as quickly as it appeared.

*

At first, Peggy can do nothing more than stay still, trying to absorb the situation. She remembers clearly, with stark accuracy, conversing with Angie, her best friend and on-and-off roommate, a few seconds ago. They were discussing Peggy's obligations with her new job, and Angie's well earned film debut, which made the younger woman infinitely excited, when everything seemed to simply blink out of existence. One second, Peggy was looking at Angie's face, the next, she wasn't.

She admits she has seen incomprehensible phenomenons during her life, but to so suddenly disappear from where she was, on an automat with Angie, to reappear on what looks like a cemetery, lying inside a casket, is beyond anything she has ever experienced.

Looking around herself, she can distinguish vaguely familiar shapes, tombs, graves, sculptures, headstones, she thinks she is fairly certain that this is a European cemetery. America's style for burying their dead is infinitely more organized, clean and lacking in personality. She distinguishes the broken tomb beside her, and pushes herself to her feet.

At least, she isn't injured in any way, as far as she can assert, and her rise is as graceful as ever despite her drenched condition. The clothes she wears seem unfitting, at once large and tight, but not overly bothersome, the texture of the cloth more comfortable than anything she ever wore. It feels like silk and cotton, but different.

Peggy has to concentrate and squint her eyes for a fair amount of time before she can distinguish the words written on the graves' headstone next to where she woke up. What she reads makes her heart go from accelerated to trying to climb out of her chest. Her own name is written on it, next to her date of birth.

The second date, supposedly of death, is what makes her feel cold, her knees feel weak. July 4, 2016. She refuses to believe it. There is no way. It means that she was talking to Angie, which seemed to happen mere minutes ago, at least seventy years ago. Her denial of it is such that she shakes her head unconsciously.

Peggy's rational and logical brain screams conflicting things at her at the same time. There is no way that this is true, no comprehensible way how she seemingly _time-traveled_. There is also, however, no explanation to why or how someone old plot something like this, or what could be gained with it. She remembers the cloaked woman. Peggy didn't recognize her, doesn't think there is anyone she knows, friend or enemy, who is in anyway like her. She also remembers how she disappeared on thin air. Peggy shivers, and though she is so cold that her fingers are a bit numb, it has little to do with the temperature.

Deeply unsettled by all of this, there isn't much she can do other than explore the place, and try to figure out what is really happening. The grave reveals little more than what she saw already, and Peggy quickly moves away from it, towards the far away lampposts. She tries her best not to stumble on the uneven ground. Once there, she discovers why the place seems vaguely familiar: it's very different from what she remembers, but Peggy is fairly certain that she is in the Brompton Cemetery. Both her parents and brother are buried here, and she visited as often as she could since their death. Morbid curiosity spurs her to look for their graves, but she decides she probably can't spare the time. With a mental promise to come back as soon as she can, she stumbles towards the cemetery exit with her ill-fitting shoes.

The make-up she wears, even with the rain, doesn't smear, but starts to itch her skin. She quickly notices it's not the same she put on earlier in the day, the shade of the lipstick that stains her hand after she runs it over her mouth much lighter than her favored red. She does her best to rid herself of all of it, using her hands and the rain, careful not to simple smear it over her face.

When she steps out of the archway of the cemetery entrance, which is surprisingly unguarded, Peggy feels as if she is on an alien planet. The avenue outside is very little like she remembers, even if its contours are roughly the same, and some buildings seem vaguely familiar. There are vehicles parked nearby, and they hold almost no resemblance to the ones she is used to. They also seem to be much faster, since one drives by her at dizzying speed, and the weirdly dressed people she can see cramming the establishments on the other side of the street don't seem to find it worth of notice.

Luckily, she goes as unnoticed. However, as she tries to walk as composedly and calmly as she can down the street, Peggy can't help but think this all supports the hypothesis the she is, in fact, in the future. She doubts there is anyone in her time who has the means to fake something like this. Even the technology she sees on the huge lit screens that move like films but display only what seems to be publicity are beyond anything she has known of, and she does know a lot.

She asks herself, for the hundredth time since she appeared here, what is the meaning of all of this. There is no feasible answer she can think of, but she might know a place in which she can start to look for it.

*

S.H.I.E.L.D., hers, Stark's and Phillips' baby – the thought that they are both dead in this time blinks inside her head, before she resolutely pushes it aside – is barely out of its blueprint phase, but with the resources offered by Howard and, in a much smaller proportion, the USA government, it has expanded immeasurably in very little time. That is how, barely months after its conception, SHIELD already has a few bases all over the world, new and mostly run by skeleton crews which she has been planning to replace as soon as she could.

Peggy tries not to think too hard about how the agency has fared in the last seventy years or so, if it still exists, what Howard and Phillips did with it after she disappeared, but she can only hope that their London base is still theirs, and at the same place it used to be. If it still is, she can also only hope that someone is going to be able to help her. She doesn't really know where to look for answers on what is happening to her, but the idea of a possible start point in the secret London base she helped chose, build and maintain is an objective which encourages her.

Luckily, the base isn't far from the cemetery, which is located in the city, and the basic layout of the streets is alike enough to what she remembers that she can make her way through them more or less assuredly. In surprisingly little time, she is standing in front of the building that used to be a front for the most inconspicuous entrance to the underground facility. It's still a front, seemingly, since the sign on it informs that it's a coffee shop.

It's open, and a there are a couple of people inside, but no one seems to pay much attention to the woman standing outside in the rain. Peggy looks right and left before discreetly going towards the back of the building, where a stairwell leading to an iron door is supposed to be, but there is only a brick wall. She studies it, running her hands over the bricks, looking for weaknesses or clues, but it seems perfectly solid. The frustration and uncertainty of the situation finally gets to her.

“Damn it.” Peggy swears loudly. She turns around and puts her hands on her hips, thinking about her next move. She doesn't hear anything over the rain, but notices there is a shadow in front of her that wasn't there a moment ago. When she turns, she is faced with a lit entrance, a glowing pad on one side.

Her heart speeds up as she goes towards it. There is a hand drawn on the pad, and she positions her own hand over it, a bit suspiciously. It blinks, and she reads on the panel over it:

_CLEARANCE AUTHORIZATION_

_LEVEL 10_

_ACCESS CONFIRMED_

_CARTER, MARGARET D 10AO1946_

She has a very faint idea of what it all means, remembering a discussion she had with Phillips not too long ago about clearance levels for SHIELD, but she only makes a mental note of the information, mostly just happy that the door in front of her slides open.

From there, it doesn't take long for her to gain full access to the building. The retinal scan is a bit trickier for her to figure out, but at least she doesn't need passwords (that she wouldn't know) to get inside, which is probably a security deficiency she automatically stores away.

Peggy is also surprised that no one stops her, and she finds out why when she finally gets through the security measures. The facility seems to be completely empty. There aren't exactly cobwebs around, but the dead silence disturbed only by her steps lets her know that this place hasn't been used in a while.

It's not a huge base, as she remembers from the one time she was actually here, but it can easily house about thirty people. There are three levels, the first is administrative, the second is housing, the third is tactical, and Peggy decides she can spare some time to look for dry clothes, take a shower and find something to eat.

Once that is done, she goes back to the administrative level, hoping to find the place where the files are kept. After long minutes of search, she comes up empty. That is what spurs her to finally face one of the many machines she has seen all over the base. She guesses working with Howard prepared her a bit for this, but it still takes her a long time to figure out how to even make one of the many machines light up. Once she does, she is faced with a metaphorical wall: it asks for an id and password.

After a few tries, she finds out that the id is the letters and numbers which appeared next to her name when she got in, but she has no clue what the password is. After trying virtually everything she can think of, she sighs deeply and gives up for now. She is exhausted, mentally and physically, and feels safe enough here that she thinks getting a little sleep won't do much harm. Maybe, she thinks as she tiredly falls down on one of the beds in one of the gray rooms of the housing level, maybe she will even wake up in her own room, and all of this will have been only a weird dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy any kind of feedback you guys are up for giving. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys. I just can't seem to stop making wrong life choices.

One moment Peggy is deeply asleep. The next she is sitting on her bed, her heart racing. For a second, she doesn't know where she is, but then it hits her. She looks at a digital clock nearby and counts herself lucky for having slept as much as she did, full six hours. The base is subterranean, so there are no windows. But the time tells her it's morning outside, and she puts on the most inconspicuous clothes she finds on the base, trying to remember what the people she saw on the street the night before were wearing. She ends up dressed in loose black trousers and a white sleeveless shirt with a dark blue jacket over it. There are no girdles or stockings available, but she finds out that it doesn't bother her much. Her hair is natural, curling only slightly, but as there isn't much she can do, Peggy only brushes it and lets it be. After a closer inspection of the offices in the administrative level of the base, she finds an absurd amount of money – fifty pounds and seventy dollars – just lying around on a drawer, forgotten. As she didn't manage to find anywhere near the amount of information she wanted to about her situation on the base, she decides it's time to step out.

Gathering her money, and feeling strangely vulnerable without her trademark red lipstick, Peggy leaves the base through the same entrance she used the night before. It's day, but heavy clouds block out the sun, and despite the strangeness of the situation, Peggy is comforted by the London weather. Deciding that she needs some tea and to talk to someone, so she can ask basic questions to help her get her bearing on this brave new world, Peggy enters the coffee shop in the street. There are a few people milling about, looking grumpy and cold. Peggy sits at the counter, and a teenage waitress with purple hair and metal on her lip takes her order. Peggy looks around as she waits and is struck both by the differences and the similarities to her own time. Despite knowing since the night before that she was in fact in a different period than her own, it's only when a black man in his twenties kisses a white girl the same age in one of the booths, and no one bats an eye, that it really dawns on Peggy where she is.

She notices the telly playing in one of the walls when the waitress, after leaving Peggy to her tea, uses some kind of remote control to increase its volume. There are scenes of an explosion and a grainy security video, while a news anchor narrates the situation.

“… _it_ _seems that the motivation behind the terrorist attack that_ _left the king of Wakanda dead and dozens of world leaders injured_ _i_ _s_ _indeed political_ _._ _A_ _uthorities have declared that the perpetrator will be brought in for questioning soon. For_ _the moment_ _, they have released an image of_ _the_ _security footage of the local that shows war veteran James Buchanan Barnes as the possible responsible for the bombing. His whereabouts are currently unknown, and the United Nations is conducting a worldwide search for him. Anyone who might have information about his localization is advised to call_...”

The reporter continues on, but Peggy isn't listening anymore. Her fingers are numb and she only marginally registers the waitress asking her if she is alright. She doesn't know. Bucky Barnes is alive. A man, who died over seventy years ago, whose death she mourned sorely, is not only alive but, as the image of him indicated, _young_. As young as she is.

Peggy feels lost. He is being hunted. Seemingly, he killed someone, and tried to kill a lot of other innocent people. She stops paying attention to the news, and fumbling to leave some money on the counter – she is sure she leaves way too much, but can't be bothered to care – Peggy leaves the shop as composedly as she can. Outside, she rests against a brick wall and takes a few deep breaths. The air of the city is surprisingly calming, and her hands, which she hadn't even noticed were shaking, still.

Could what happened to her have also happened to him? Can it be a coincidence that they are both young and alive, almost seventy years later than they should be? She is reeling. She had been since she woke up in her own _coffin_ the night before. The word “coffin” makes something click inside her head, and a horrible, stomach-churning thought comes to her mind… what if she didn't time travel? What if time only turned back for her, and she was dead and then she wasn't. What if she woke up in the cemetery because that is where she had been before whoever that woman was brought her back? Maybe she already lived her whole life, and just doesn't remember it. Perhaps she is simply going insane.

These thoughts should make her panic, and seeing James alive a few minutes before, even in the telly, almost did. But now, they give her an edge. The uncertainty, the helplessness and confusion she has been feeling since she woke up the night before. Peggy decides that she is done with it, and that she is going to figure out what is happening, doesn't matter what it takes. And she will also find out what is going on with James. She knows him, he is a good man, he would never hurt innocents. Something eerie is definitely happening, and she is going to discover what.

Squaring her jaw and righting her posture, as if getting ready to face an enemy battalion, Peggy reenters the coffee shop, making a bee-line to the place she had been sitting, where both her tea and her money still rest. She waits for the waitress to come her way, and when she does, Peggy starts asking questions.

_____

Almost an hour latter, Peggy steps out of the coffee shop again. It seems that it is in fact 2016, and she can barely believe how much has changed since 1948. Apparently, aliens have tried to invade New York. A god, a real god, helped avoid it. Interracial marriage was legalized in the United States in the sixties, and gay marriage just last year. Women still earn less than men, but they are now allowed to perform all the same functions. Most diseases that were true issues during her time, like tuberculosis, have been cured, largely dealt with or extinguished, while new ones emerged. The United States elected an _african-american_ – as she is told is the appropriate term – president. And it seems that there is much, much more. When the waitress starts talking about the team of superheros, _superheros_ , that saved New York from the aliens a few years back, Peggy interrupts her, a possible course of action already forming inside her head. She gives her thanks for the information, pays, and leaves.

As she walks through the London streets, attempting to not be distracted by how colorful, bigger and louder the city is around her than what she is used to, Peggy tries to delineate objectives and parameters for what she has to do, as if she is on a mission. It helps, to think of her situation as a new challenge, as just one more of the hundreds of situations she has dealt with since she became a field agent for the British Military. There are a few important questions she needs answers to, and those can't be acquired easily. How to get back to her own time, or even if there is a way. Who brought her here, by what means it was done, what consequences it could provoke, and what purpose it serves. She needs help, but everyone she knows is dead. Except James, of course, but he is a fugitive of justice and more in need of help than capable of offering it.

Peggy had, however, inquired Karen – the waitress – about the one person she knows who was famous enough that a regular civilian would probably know what became of him. Howard Stark died on a car accident a couple decades before. The news of his death, while unsurprising, are still painful. But there is no time to morn, and fact is that Howard had a son, despite his penchant for running away from any kind of responsibility or commitment. Anthony Stark, or Tony, who also happens to be a superhero known as “Iron Man”, whatever that means. He is a part of the Avengers, a team about which she knows nothing due to her hasty retreat when the subject was broached. Which, in retrospect, she thinks might have been premature. However, what Peggy does know is that Karen is definitely a fan, and was more than happy to share some important information about the man. Including the fact that his multibillion dollars company has a building here in London, and while Karen couldn't say if Tony is there, the CEO of his company, Virginia Potts, is often in the area doing business.

Peggy knows that simply waltzing into the building and asking to talk either with its owner or its CEO, claiming to be a dead woman back to life, is a truly terrible plan. If she is lucky, she will be ignored and sent away. If she is unlucky, she could be arrested or sent to the mad house. Which, if she is being honest, would be a sensible course of action on the part of any sane person that hears what she has to say. Either way, she imagines that going there might, perhaps, help her gather more information, and plan a more logical strategy.

Despite the fact she has what she thought to be a considerable amount of money, the tea she had alone cost two pounds, so the value of the currency must have changed in the last 67 years. Trying to not squander the few resources she has, Peggy decides that taking the train there might be best. After almost getting lost twice in the London subway system that seems so different than what Peggy remembers, she finally makes it into the avenue that houses the Stark building. When she looks at it from the street, it seems big, hunkering and extravagant, like a lot of things in this time. It's all glass and sleek metal, and Peggy can comfortably observe the entrance from a table at a cafe on the other side of the street.

_____

Pepper Potts is not having a good day.

She should be more used to this, really, after all it's not her first rodeo. But the usual Stark Industries stuff is keeping her even busier than normal, since she can't delegate the usual share of responsibilities to Maria, who is up to her neck with the Avengers situation. Her personal issues also are not helping. She actually thought taking a break from Tony would make her life easier, but it only ended up leaving her all the more worried about him and what trouble he will surely get himself into. Now, with the incident at the signing of the Sokovia Accords, the dissidence between the Avengers and the manhunt for the Captain's best friend… Pepper can almost feel tragedy brewing. And she just _knows_ that Tony will be in the middle of it all, as usual.

Nonetheless, life goes on. She has an important meeting today, one she spent half a day flying across an ocean to participate in. Also, she regrets not having been able to go to Peggy Carter's funeral, and intends to visit her grave and pay her respects later. Pepper only met the woman a couple of times when she first started working for Tony, but she definitely made an impression, and Pepper knows how important she was to him while he was growing up. The fact that he wasn't present on her service only stresses how strained things must be between he and Steve, since the Captain's presence is the only reason Pepper can think of to justify Tony missing Peggy Carter's burial.

Pepper doesn't notice when, as she is leaving the car with Happy following her with his usual paranoid perusal of the environment, the very woman she is thinking about watches from a few feet away. She also misses when, at the same time Happy opens one of the glass doors to the building, the woman stands up, and walks towards them.

_____

Peggy has been sitting in the cafe nursing a tar-black cup of coffee for about half an hour when she sees a black vehicle pull over next to the Stark edifice. She can't believe her luck when a slender, elegant redhead steps out of it, accompanied by a man in a suit that Peggy can only assume is her bodyguard. Karen had shown her an image of Anthony Stark with a beautiful ginger woman by his side on her cellphone – the technology of which Peggy was and is amazed by – so Peggy can recognize the woman she sees entering the building as the same one. It's an opportunity Peggy didn't actually thought she would have, and can't afford to waste. So, a few moments after the CEO goes into the lobby, accompanied by the man, Peggy follows them.

She attempts to keep a respectful, inconspicuous distance, so when she manages to cross the street and go through the door, Miss Potts is already in one of the many lifters on the corridor by the side of the reception. Peggy slows down her walk towards the reception desk directly in front of her, watching the numbers on the display stop on the 49th floor.

When she finally gets to the reception desk, and a polished looking receptionist smiles at her in expectation, Peggy realizes that she has no plan and no idea of what to say.

“Good morning. Welcome to the Stark Industries facility, how can I help you?” The woman says, her accent perfectly upper class British. Peggy gives her a quick, tremulous smile. Then, decides to use her own nervousness in her favor.

“Good morning, Miss Williams.” Peggy reads on her name tag. She takes a deep steadying breath that is only partly fake. “A most unfortunate event just occurred, and I would request your help, if I may.” The receptionist nods. “I was just accosted by two men. They took my purse and all possessions I had with me. You see, I don't usually come to this part of the town, so I know of no place nearby where I could go for help. Would you mind terribly if I used your telephone?”

Miss Williams seems appropriately shocked at this. “Thieves? In this part of town, at this hour of the day?”

Peggy nods, rueful. “The world has certainly gone off the rails. Unfortunately.”

“You can use the telephone, of course.” The receptionist motions to it. Peggy starts to reach for the appliance, but stops.

“Actually, I seem to still be quite shaken by the episode. Is there any chance I could use the facilities first?” She tries. As she went in she observed that the lobby of the building is rather spartan, and if there are bathrooms here they are either next to the elevators and out of the sight of the receptionists, or on one of the upper floors.

“Of course, there are bathrooms on the second floor. You can use one of the lifters.”

“Thank you very much.” Peggy smiles at the woman, relieved, and makes her way towards one of the golden ridged lifters. There is not an attendant in there, and while Peggy could simply lie to them, she is glad to not need to. She presses 49. A few people enter on various floors, but Peggy is very adept at looking like she belongs even when wearing simple clothes, no make up and no other accessories in such an elegant professional setting. While she does get a few looks, people seem perfectly happy to ignore her presence, until she is again alone in the compartment.

However, Peggy thinks she might have seriously overestimated her spying abilities, since the moment the elevator doors open on the 49th floor she is faced with the very unhappy face of the bodyguard that was accompanying Miss Potts earlier. She tries to mask her surprise, but as he stares at her when she steps out of the lifter, it's clear she is not fooling him.

“You have one chance to tell me why you were following my boss, so I can either escort you out of the building or into the nearest police station, capiche?” He says, and a very American phrase goes through Peggy's head. _Oh, fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna stop making promises about my posting schedule, because I'm an asshole and can't keep them. But I love Peggy, and writing about her makes me happy, so that is a very good motivation right there. Also, your reviews make me inspired, so if you want more, just go for it. I also like corrections or criticism, as long as they are done respectfully. And, don't hesitate to ask me questions about the story, maybe you might think it's not important or easily explainable, but it will be easier for me to spot plot holes if you guys ask about them. It's tough to be self-aware about that kind of stuff. And, if you think my Peggy is in any way OOC, I also want to know. 
> 
> :)


End file.
